


aeternum sanctae foedus noster amicitiae

by lizzledpink



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzledpink/pseuds/lizzledpink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing living space with Soren is a very new experience for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aeternum sanctae foedus noster amicitiae

**Author's Note:**

> Nagamas Gift for [alimsurana](http://alimsurana.tumblr.com) (formerly undinestrebt) – “Ike/Soren – domestic fluff” – x-post @ [tumblr](http://lizzledpink.tumblr.com/post/91813467526)

The first thing Ike had to learn about sharing his tent with Soren was how to maintain the comfort of his boyish messy environment without disrupting Soren’s meticulous ways. It was an issue that came up the very first evening of their reckless attempt at cohabitation.

Ike woke up to somebody shaking his shoulder. He grumbled foggily, trying to dislodge himself from what had been a nice rest, only to open his eyes and find Soren scowling at him.

One thing Ike had learned over the years was that Soren, given the chance, had a natural talent for good, thorough sulks. Slowly, he sat up, meeting Soren’s eyes. “Uh… Something wrong?”

Soren’s mouth twisted a little more. “Your cloak’s on my desk,” he said. “Can you move it?”

“Sure... You can move it, though.”

“Where would I put it?”

“Anywhere?”

Soren raised his eyebrows. Ike got the impression that he was unimpressed by this answer.

“Uh… Just drape it over my chair for the moment,” Ike suggested.

Soren gave a little sigh. “Should I always assume I can put your cloak over your chair?”

“Yeah. If any of my stuff’s in your way, you can probably move it somewhere else.”

“I knew you were disorganized, but not to this extent,” Soren muttered. He swiveled around, heading over to Ike’s cloak to move it. “How do you find your belongings?”

Ike almost said “trial and error,” but he had the sneaking suspicion that Soren wouldn’t appreciate the humor of the answer. “I just do,” he settled for. “Normally I have a pretty good memory for where I last had something.”

“Must make packing up and moving camp difficult for you,” Soren added. The scowl was fading from his face, Ike noticed. Soren started walking towards his cot, so Ike pulled his legs up, making a little room for Soren to take a seat at the end of it. Soren took the seat, and continued, “How do you manage to keep your weaponry so organized, then? Your sword is always polished and cared for, and I know you’re the one who cares for it, and no other.”

“That’s different. You know how… You know how my father was. A mercenary who doesn’t take care of their weapons…”

“…isn’t worth a penny,” Soren finished. A slight smile crossed his face. “So he taught you to keep your weapons clean, but not your tent?”

“Essentially,” Ike said, returning the smile. He shifted again, sliding out from under his blanket to sit beside Soren on the cot. “What about you? Are you just scrupulous by nature?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not why I tend to be so organized about my items. First of all, it’s practical. We’re on the move too often.  Second, it’s a habit I formed very young. For a number of reasons…” Soren trailed off a little bit, looking away at the tent wall, and shifted slightly in place.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ike offered.

The comment seemed to snap Soren’s attention back to the conversation. “There’s little to say, anyway. The sage who taught me what I know of magic was very orderly, and didn’t approve when I managed to disrupt that order.”

“I guess it makes sense that a mage would have to be more orderly than a more traditional warrior, though,” Ike thought out loud. “Using weaponry can be complex, but it doesn’t exactly need much more than a nearby pointy object. Mages need more varied tools for their craft.”

Soren smiled again. It wasn’t the smile Ike was looking for, not just yet, but it was progress. Soren’s mood was a balancing act that Ike was learning to manage against his own – and pretty well, he thought.

“Precisely.  So is there any way you can avoid an excess of mess?” Soren asked.

“You can always move it, I don’t mind. I’m guessing you don’t want me to move your stuff if it’s in my way?” Soren nodded. Ike gave him a smile just short of a grin. “Okay, then I won’t. And I’ll try to keep my mess closer to my cot, maybe.”

“That should suffice,” Soren agreed. “Go back to sleep.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re still tired,” said Soren. “I interrupted your rest.”

Ike rolled his shoulders back and smiled. “Fine. But you should get to sleep too.”

“I was going to finish some work first,” Soren protested, but it was a quiet protest at best. Turning slightly, Ike placed one hand on Soren’s shoulder and seized the opportunity to kiss his cheek. Soren raised his eyebrows at Ike a moment after, as if to say, “Is that really your best effort?” Then Soren gave Ike a smile (the sincere, serene one Ike had been hoping for all along) and gave him a warm, sweet kiss on the lips.

Ike wrapped his arm further around Soren during the kiss, slowly pulling him into his arms. Soren eagerly clutched at Ike in return. Ike smiled a little, hiding a mirthful laugh. At the start of their relationship, Soren had been hesitant with matters of affection and physical contact, but now, so long as they were in private, he held little back. All it had required from Ike was patience, and when it came to Soren, that had always been the case. Trust, hope, and friendship had never come easy with Soren, but here they were now, closer than Ike could ever have dreamed.

They kept the kiss chaste, mostly, and at its end, hardly moved but to separate their lips. “Get some rest with me,” said Ike.

“I’m still in my day clothes,” mumbled Soren. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright.

“You seem comfy enough. And we share a tent now.  No worrying about being seen in the morning.”

Soren tucked his head in against Ike’s shoulder, sighing. “I’d nearly forgotten. I suppose there are benefits to living together after all.”

“You’re only realizing that now?” Ike teased.

“Just lie down already.”

With Soren warm and settled against him, it wasn’t long before Ike drifted off once more.

* * *

It wasn’t too long before Ike managed to get the hang of keeping his mess to one side of things. Soren still leveled a glare at him now and then, at which point Ike dutifully gave him a sheepish smile and began to move a few of his things.

There was little hardship in it. Ike knew he was a fairly laid-back person, and he knew that Soren wasn’t. That was just how it was. And the simple fact was that while there may have been silly little drawbacks to living with Soren like keeping a little tidier and a little quieter most of the time, the benefits far outweighed them.

He learned more about Soren with every passing day, and took delight in his learnings. Soren’s treatment of his hair, for example, amused him. Soren usually gave his hair a brief brush in the morning, and unless they trekked through a path full of a peculiar amount of brambles, the quick brush seemed to keep his hair in order throughout the day.

But on occasion, Soren would be in a rush in the morning, and when he thought Ike wasn’t paying attention he would mutter a short spell under his breath which caused a little gust of wind to slide through his hair, catching most of the tangles. From the little Ike knew about magic (and it was very little) the spell would have required a good deal of practice – and Soren had likely gone through that practice, just to keep his hair in order on busy days. Soren probably thought he’d look vain or something if he was caught at it, so Ike pretended he didn’t know.

He learned that Soren had only two modes of sleep: get almost none, or get exactly enough. Soren would stay up for four, maybe five extra hours into the night, studying maps and books as he tried to puzzle out the mysteries of the universe, or simply figure out the perfect strategy to take for certain terrain.

(Truth be told, Ike wasn’t one to give up sleep very often, so he only really found out how long Soren sometimes stayed up because one day, he actually asked.)

Or, Soren would prepare himself for bed, and go to sleep. No fuss, no hurry.  They didn’t always sleep together; sharing a small cot intended for a single person was only appealing so often. So, some nights Ike would slide into bed, and Soren would eventually blow out the candle and see to his own blankets. Other nights, Ike would nod off long before Soren’s candle went out. Other nights, Soren would snuggle against him. Thankfully, neither of them tended to move a great deal in their sleep. 

It was odd how quickly this routine came to feel natural, like a new, but no less comforting, version of home.

* * *

Except when Soren tapped his fingers against hard surfaces, deep in thought.

Ike couldn’t put a name to the reason why it bothered him so much, but it did. The constant tapping liked to disrupt his thinking (and, despite the jokes Mist would make, yes, he did often like to think).

Soren was fully absorbed in his reading as Ike entered, a sight that made him smile a little. They had picked up the book a couple of days ago when Ike had spotted it in a store, only to have Soren suddenly jump up and mutter something about an ancient king with a wild, bright look in his eyes.

The previous day, they’d been on the move, trudging to their next destination with exhaustion as the fun of spending a day in a friendly town slowly wore off. Soren had kept the book close in his saddlebags, but Ike knew Soren began to feel ill when he tried to read on horseback. That had left today for Soren to finally snatch up the chance to read his new book.

Which would be great… except for the tapping.

“Soren?”

“Yes?”

“Could you stop tapping your fingers?”

Soren’s tapping ceased for a moment as he looked at his fingers, blinking with mild surprise. “I hadn’t noticed,” he remarked. “Were you trying to sleep?”

“No,” Ike grumbled. “It’s just… annoying.”

“I’ll try to stop it,” Soren assured him, and he turned back to his book, immediately absorbed once more.

Ike closed his eyes again and resettled himself. His mind drifted, pondering that one sword sweep he hadn’t quite mastered yet. There was something about the sweep that was putting him off. His feet always ended up ever so slightly off, enough to ruin his sense of balance. The last time he’d tried it before he quit, he’d nearly tripped and fell into the dirt.

He was almost certain he was missing something very, very obvious, but –

Soren had started tapping again.

Ike opened his eyes. “Soren,” he growled. 

Soren tensed up and turned around. “Did I start tapping again?” he asked.

Knowing a good chunk of his frustration was with himself more than Soren, Ike let out a deep sigh and collected himself. “Yeah.”

At first, Soren didn’t respond. There was an assessing look on his face, and Ike didn’t know what to make of it. It was an expression usually reserved for battle strategies and tactics, things he was trying to puzzle together so that he could make the most strategic response.

The last time Ike had seen it directed at _him_ had been a while ago. In fact, it had been only a few days before Ike had finally looked at Soren and – got it, suddenly, finally, why Soren opening up to him, staying close at his side, was so grippingly important to him.

It shocked Ike even more when Soren quickly tucked the ribbon into his book to mark the spot, closed it, and pulled up a chair at Ike’s side.

“I – what?” said Ike. _I thought only work and battle could pull you away from that book,_ he thought, bewildered, but when he tried to voice the thought he felt the words slipping out of reach.

“Something wrong?” Soren asked, tilting his head a little. His hair shifted with the tilt of his head, drawing attention to how it framed his face. The angles of his face seemed to have become more firm recently, giving him a little more maturity and stature. When he was casting magic it gave his face a sharp edge of concentration, a shadowed look intimidating even from a man who was quite a bit shorter. It was a sharp contrast to – how long ago? It felt like ages – when Soren’s face had been just the slightest bit childish, making whatever he did just slightly less imposing.

But now, when Soren was looking at him like this… Ike knew now that he had fallen in love with Soren maybe even years and years ago, but this was the look that had woken him up to it.

“I thought you were reading your book,” said Ike, not accusing, but curious.

“You know I’m quick to stop reading when more important things are going on,” Soren said softly, drawing Ike’s face closer to his with one hand. He gave Ike a slow, lingering kiss, while Ike’s mind began to process just what Soren meant. He caught on with a sharp, delighted inhale, realizing that Soren ranked him, his just _being_ there, as more important than an ancient, rare book. As important as stories, as important as war.

As the gears of his mind slowed, Ike noticed that Soren was smiling at him.

“You always surprise me,” Ike remarked, and then he winced a little, feeling like he’d said something very foolish.

“Truly?” Soren remarked. “I would think I’m predictable when you consider my priorities.” He ran his thumb over Ike’s face. “Magic, history, strategy, defense, and you. My actions can be easily determined by evaluating those simple points. I’ll simply read more later.”

“I guess so,” said Ike said. With a hint of a smile, he clasped Soren in a warm embrace.  He closed his eyes, basking in the moment. He thought he could happily live this way for the rest of his life, making silly chatter with Soren. Doing anything and everything with Soren.

“Are your shoulders broader?” Soren muttered, perhaps not even fully aware that he spoke out loud.

The comment struck a chord with Ike, and he withdrew, stunned. “Soren, you’re brilliant.”

Soren frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve just – I’ve been having a problem lately, and – it’s not important,” said Ike. It was that simple, wasn’t it? He was missing the sword sweep because he had grown more, and his usual cues for learning new tricks were off.  He just needed to compensate for a slightly broader sense of self. “I think my shoulders _are_ broader,” he said. He grinned.

“I have no idea why you’re happy about that,” said Soren. “Although, I do know why _I’m_ happy about it,” he added with a small smirk.

“I would have started exercising more ages ago if I’d known it would bring us here,” Ike complained.

“I don’t mind how we ended up here,” said Soren. “Even with your mess, living together with you is… It’s perfect.” Soren flushed a little, plainly embarrassed. “I was worried. It’s always been me, on my own, before this. I wasn’t sure I could live with anyone, and with you, if it hadn’t worked out…”

Ike thought he might be blushing a little, too. “It’s been great,” he said. “Even with the tapping, I think it’s one of the best things ever. I – I kinda hope you don’t have to live alone ever again.”

Soren seemed speechless. Then he kissed Ike like a promise, and held him like a gift, and the thought of being home, of this always being home, permeated the air like sunlight on Ike’s skin.

\- fin -

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY, YOU CLEARLY LIKE KIERAN A WHOLE LOT BUT I DON’T KNOW TOO MUCH ABOUT HIM AND DOUBT I COULD DO HIS CHARACTER JUSTICE SO HERE’S SOME OVERLY SAPPY IKE/SOREN FLUFF! Anyway, you seem cool and your blog is cool, I’m gonna give you a follow! I definitely didn’t stalk your #tellius tag to see if you had any fantastic headcanons I could adopt and then add to this. Nope. Okay maybe a little. Uhhhhhh hope you like your gift :3 Happy Nagamas!
> 
> Title taken and slightly altered from Catullus #109. Loosely means “our eternal pact of sacred friendship” if I did my Latin right.


End file.
